Born of the Blood
by PaxRoman
Summary: Five years after D2K, Dracula begins to sense that another mortal was born with his blood. Will he hunt them down, or will someone stop him before it he suceeds? DraculaOC
1. Prologue

_Neeew fic! Neeew fic! _Tralala!

I rented Dracula 2000 the other night (I and _swear_ it wasn't because Gerard Butler was in it...) and I started thinking up this fic as I watched Dracula saunter down the streets of New Orleans during Mardi Grais. He iz zo zexy! RAWR!

**_Of the Wicca Readers_**:

The 50th review inspired me! I'm working on the update! Woohoo!

_**Wander in Winter Readers**_:

I'm still formulating the next chapter... so it might be a few more days (especially since I have Dracula on my mind... BUT I STILL LOVE ERIK! HE IS MY FIERY, SKULKING _LOVAAAAA_!)

**Warning**: There is some heavy swearing and drug references in this first chapter in particually, so be forewarned!

* * *

London, 1985

It was really late. Or possibly very early. That much I knew, although not much else. The dank, London streets had only recently stopped swirling and spinning, and I had no idea where I was. _David, that bastard._ He'd had some awesome stuff tonight; didn't say where he'd got it. And after I took the first whiff, I found that I didn't give a damn. Rubbing my face, I stood and looked around. _Where the hell was David? Where the hell was I!_ Whatever we'd taken, it was fucking powerful.

I stumbled into an alleyway, leaning again the old brick wall to catch my breath. I felt a bout of dizziness. I needed something to cool my nerves. My hand groped about in my sweatshirt pouch. I found an empty candy wrapper, a capsule, and some crumbs; no needle. _Fuck_. Where was it! I checked every pocket on me. No needle. No goddamn needle. I fell back onto the wall again, as a wave of nausea came over me. My hands were beginning to shake. _I needed some flake_…

Wincing and opening one eye, I looked down. An old garbage can. _What good would that do_! Something shiny caught my attention. It was buried down under a layer of trash, but nevertheless stuck out enough to catch my eye. Disbelief overwhelmed me. _No way_… Reaching down, I picked the object out of the rubbish with trembling fingers. _No fucking way_… My eyes widened as it caught the glow of a streetlight.

A syringe.

I brought it close to my eyes and squinted. It was empty. A grin broke out across my face. _What are the fucking odds_!

It didn't take me long to fill the hypodermic and I took even less time plunging the thin metal into my forearm. A blissful calm came over me, then I chuckled, feeling the effects beginning to kick in. I glanced at the now empty needle; _I had plenty back at my flat_...

Tossing it back into the litter can, I staggered away, smiling broadly as I watched the lights. I laughed again, and glanced up at the structure behind which I'd found my salvation. It was some old shop; _probably sold a bunch of shit to fogies_. I snickered at my own joke and looked at the name plate. _Carfax Abbey?_

I shook my head, and continued down the street. Who the hell would name their shop Carfax Abbey?

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Ooohh... **Twist**! Has anyone noticed my love them? BWA. REVIEW ME. X3  



	2. Nightmare

Here be chapter two...

Not a lot to say about this sucker... Chp. 9 for **Of the Wicca** is almost done. I'm going to think about it before I go to sleep, so I might be able to formulate the dialog in my sleep. Nifty trick, that. I recommend it to all the writers out there.

**Wander in Winter** is givng me some grief. That one might take me a little while...

Thanks to those who reviewed! Just to clear up any confusion, that first chapter was supposed to be a bit rushed; I was trying to make it seem like the guy (_Who_ is he? Well, you shall see... BWA) was completely drugged up and therefore wouldn't really be thinking things through (clearly, since he used a needle he found _in the trash_...). It was also just to set the scene and to give a little insight to the reader. I hope that makes sense... I've developed a habit of confusing my readers. As I write it, it all makes perfect sense to me cause I have the whole story in my head. That is something I must work on... u.u

Love you all-

Pax

* * *

** London, 2005**

Since my last awakening, I rarely dreamed. It could only make sense that way, I suppose, for I had been reduced to nothing more than bone and ash. One would assume that such remnants hardly dreamt.

My state did not remain, however. As time past, my body began to slowly reform itself. I had no conscious role in this restoration; vampiric bodies do not require the presence of mind to heal. Indeed, I thought it very strange that my possessors had not considered this when they locked me away in that accursed vault. Surely they must have known I would not continue on as dust.

I cannot say how long it took for me to become whole once again. Perhaps months. Perhaps years. I will never know. But once I again resembled a human form, the visions began. Not of Christ, the one I betrayed; not of Mary, the one who betrayed me; of another. A faceless, nameless mortal soul the existed in the world. A faceless, nameless mortal soul in whose veins my blood ran.

Could Mary have born a child? There was a possibility, yet somehow I doubted she would. She knew full well what was mingled with the human fluid that ran beneath her skin. Me. Through her father's foolishness, I lived on within her. She would not risk another being created with the umbra of Dracula as part of them.

Yet I was confident there was a vessel the contained a part of myself walking about the wide world. I was not yet strong enough to see, but I felt them with my every breath. And with their existence came hope.

**_I have searched for centuries for one not bitten, but born._**

And now one such being lived. I had to become strong once again. I had to escape from my metal prison. I had to find the creature with my blood. And I had to possess them.

* * *

**Louisiana, 2005**

The night was warm, as were many in the muggy hours of darkness in Baton Rouge. Aside from the quietly chirping crickets and the drone of my air fan there was no sound. Feeling hot and damp from perspiration, I kicked off my blanket, rolling onto my back. But now the sweat on my skin made me too cold. Groaning, I pulled just the linen bed sheet back up and squeezed my eyes shut. I had work tomorrow; I needed to get some sleep…

Settling on my left side, I sighed; the cool breeze from the fan was hitting my body perfectly when I laid like this. Slowly a doze worked its way over my mind and I fell into a dream.

_I was in a dark tunnel. I was freezing; looking down I realized I was still in my pajamas, a pair of light shorts and a t-shirt. A light flickered at the end of the passageway. Moving toward it, I rubbed my hands together, seeking warmth. It was a torch. My eyebrows raised; what was this place? There was a pair of wooden doors to my right, sheltered by a large metal crucifix and bound with chains. I felt drawn to them, despite the fact that I knew I'd never be able to move the cross; it was much too big and heavy for me to shift. _

_With one hand, I grazed my finger tips over the cold, tarnished surface. Something was hidden behind it; I could not explain why, but I longed to see whatever the doors concealed. My rational side pointed out that I didn't even know what **it** was. But reason rarely prevails in my dreams. _

_Suddenly, the cross began to slide. I jumped back as it fell to the ground; the doors opened with a creak, but there was no one there to have moved them. Several minutes past as I stared into the room, now revealed. It was dark, not as much as the hall in which I stood. But there something within that made me turn colder than I already was. _

_A coffin sat silently on a rock pedestal. It was large, silver, angular, carved with runes. I was not afraid of meaning behind the sarcophagus; I was not afraid of death. It was the thing itself that frightened me. An air of anger, of an immortal malevolence hung around it like a cloud. This was not an ordinary coffin._

_I wanted badly to turn back the way I had come, but I couldn't have stopped my feet and their slow advance for the world. We seldom have such control of our dreams, I've come to find. Have you ever had a nightmare about a door? Not just any door. I mean one that shields something dangerous, something that you oughtn't let out. But what do you do? Go straight forward and turn the knob. That's what I was experiencing. I couldn't help it._

_There were four ornamental crosses located in a symmetric pattern on the lid; my fingers went to the one closest to the foot of the coffin. It turned, and the top swung back._

_A man lay upon the gray satin; his eyes were open and they fell upon me. I backed away with a strangled cry, stumbling over my feet and hitting the ground hard as he rose from his gruesome bed. I winced; my forearm was bleeding. Looking again towards the coffin, I choked on a gasp when I saw the strange man._

_He was standing at my feet._

_**Wake up.**_

_I sat, petrified. _

**_Wake up. Wake up. _**

_He reached down, and grasped my cut arm in one hand, and brought it to his mouth. His skin was cold, like a dead person's._

**_Daddy, please get up…_**

_Shivers racked my frame. My heart was racing. He licked the wound clean; looked down at me; caught my gaze._

_**You said you'd always be there.**_

_The man smiled, a wide, toothy grin. His canines were long and sharp. He pulled me to my feet._

_**Why did you leave me?**_

_We were face to face, eye to eye. Brown met piercing blue grey._

"_Claire…" He murmured, almost too softly to be heard. I felt lightheaded; I was going to faint. The room began to dissolve. His face broke into a frown, teeth bared. One hand reached out to grab hold me._

_But I was already gone._

I shot bolt upright from my laying stance, gasping. I was dripping sweat. There were tears on my cheeks; they wouldn't stop. My hands moved up to cover my face_. It was a nightmare._ There was a thumping on the stairs, then the door flew open. My Aunt Margot stood in the entrance, her bathrobe hanging off one shoulder.

"Claire! What on earth is the matter?"

I tried to smile, but failed. Instead, using the back of my hand, I wiped my face and replied.

"It's nothing. I'm fine."

But she wasn't so easily fooled. Straightening the collar, she sat beside me on the bed.

"It didn't sound like nothing. By the level of your scream, I thought someone had broken in and was trying to kill you."

She guided my head to one soft, tartan covered shoulder, stroking my hair.

"Just a nightmare." I whispered, closing my eyes, inhaling the comforting and familiar scent of my aunt. She always smelled dimly of oil colors and paint remover.

"I'll be alright."

"Was it about your father?"

I paused. "No."

Aunt Margot had learned to read me over the past twelve years.

"You sure?"

"Yes."

She sighed, and rose. I couldn't meet her eyes. After a short silence, she bent over and slapped my knee.

"Well, if nothing's wrong, then you'd best get your rear in gear! It's already seven thirty and you have work at nine."

I nodded, flopping back onto my bed as she left, closing the door with a soft click. His eyes haunted me. They had been so intense, so powerful…

There was a crash downstairs; Aunt Margot yelled something, no doubt at one of the cats. I smiled, despite my worries, smothering my face in a pillow, then rolling out of bed. My work outfit was hanging from the closet handle: a white voile skirt and a blue smocked blouse.

I pulled off my shorts and tank and began to dress, but as I slipped the light shirt over my head, I gasped as a sudden pain flared on my arm. Wincing and glancing down, I froze.

There was a sizeable mark on the underside of my right forearm; it was clean of blood, and was beginning to scab over. My heart pounded in my chest. Looking up, I caught the eyes of my reflection in the mirror.

I had hoped to pass the dream off as nothing more than a nightmare.

But it seemed that it wasn't.

* * *

Do you like how I just completely ripped the movie? I'm actually quit proud of my thievery. XP Now only one question remains. 

Q: Why did I set it in Louisiana! Can't I be at all creative?

A: Nope. Too lazy. And besides, Louisana is the _**Literay and Film Vampire Story Headquarters (TM)**_. Think about it... Dracula 2000, Interview with the Vampire, Memnoch the Devil (did that one take place in New Orleans? I'm about 92.4 percent sure, but I'm also really tired right now...)


	3. Escape

Hello my friends! I return!

I am truly how long it has been since I've updated! I really didn't know where to take this fic after the last chapter. I had to watch the movie again, but I was in a huge hold line for it (hold number 17 out of 23!). I finally nabbed it about a week ago, and I'm happy to say I think I already have the fourth chapter formulating!

Enjoy!

Pax**

* * *

London**

The dreams had started about a week ago. Well, I suppose started wouldn't be the proper way to say it. They began _reoccurring_ about a week ago, then. The exact same scenes that had plagued my nights five years ago. I had thought they would never come back; I had been wrong. Something still flickered in his ashes, and whatever it was wanted to be free. For what purpose I didn't know. I didn't want to know.

It was almost midnight. My body and brain were exhausted, but I didn't want to sleep. Gazing up at the cloudy night sky, I pulled the quilt tighter about my body. I was afraid. While I was awake, he couldn't touch me. Couldn't see me. Couldn't find me. With sleep came weakness, and he thrived on it.

What did I plan to do? Stay awake forever? Run away and cower from a pile of dust locked away behind ten feet of steel? Hide from a creature that was secured in a silver casket and bound by a cross? I shook my head, feeling braver. No; I would not. I would fight. He had been defeated once before, hadn't he? I knew how to kill him, if he should arise. Which he most certainly would_ not_.

Moving beneath the covers, I settled into bed. I had to be brave. For my father. For Lucy. For Simon.

_The darkness was stifling. I couldn't see, couldn't breathe, couldn't do anything but panic. _

_Mary._

_No. No, no, no. I don't believe it. It's not real. **He's not there**._

_Mary._

_Leave me alone. Let me sleep._

_Mary._

_Please go away! What did I do to deserve this?_

_MARY._

_Get out of my head! Leave now, and never come back!_

_MARY._

_He was very strong. More so than ever before. Could I fight him? I was going to loose…_

_The shade lifted from my eyes, flashing images. Him. Everywhere._

_MARY!_

_I couldn't win. I knew it, and he knew it. I felt cold, alone, helpless. I was at the mercy of a monster. And mercy was not something he showed his victims. The passage was long; I wrenched at the wooden doors, tearing the flesh of my hands. _

I suddenly realized I was awake. I had been for a long time. I was standing before his coffin. He was in there, redeveloped and prepared to strike. I tasted salt; I was crying.

_Mary_.

I didn't want to fight anymore. I wanted it all to end. My bleeding hands rested on the cool silver. There were footsteps behind me.

"Mary?"

_Open it._

I found the small cross.

"Mary! What are you doing?"

It revolved with my movement; my blood was being sucked through the gaps.

"Mary, NO!"

The coffin lid went back. _I was gone_.

"MARY!"

**Baton Rouge**

I flailed, sheets falling to the ground. _What the hell?..._ I sat, confused and terrified. The dream was back. The dream with the horrible, dead-looking man. I trembled, closing my eyes. Part of me wanted to run down the hall to Aunt Margot's room, to snuggle in beside her and let her comfort me. She had always been so good about it; I always felt safe with her. When I'd been sent to live with her all those years ago, she'd always let me sleep in her bed. But I had a good reason back then: I was a little kid, scared of a big house in a new place. This was just a nightmare. A silly, abet creepy, bad dream. I could deal with it on my own.

Settling back into bed, I tried to sleep. 'It had been different this time.' I couldn't help the thought. It had.

_There had been another person there, a woman with bloody fingers. As she moved to open his coffin I screamed for her to stop. She didn't hear me. _

_He had leapt the instant the lid went back. I covered my eyes, shrieking and crying at the same time. There was blood everywhere._

"_Mary!"_

_A man had come forward, to meet the same fate. I had tried to run; floor was slippery and red. I felt him behind me, his hand on my arm. I struggled._

"_Please let me go!" I had wailed, pitifully now I thought about it, "I don't want to die!"_

_His face was beside my ear._

"**Than you never will."**

I sat up again, eyes wide. His voice had echoed through my room. _Was he here!_ I shrank beneath my blanket, willing myself to sleep. _It was just a dream_.

* * *

_**Police Report #7135**_

_**Case Number**: DH 12/07/05/7135_

_**Incident**: Double Homicide Attempt_

_**Reporting Officer**: Constable Raymond Bentley_

_**Date of Report**: 12 July 2005_

At about 2330 hours on the 12th of July a call was made by Mr. John Forester _(London resident)_ regarding a disturbance within 165 Great Dover Street, SE1 4YB. _(Note)_ The explanation given as to Mr. Forester's presence on the scene was that he had recently left work, and had proceeded to the train station when he heard the noise. _(End Note)_

At 2340 hours squad car #37 arrived with Officers: Philips, Welsh, and myself. There was no response to our initial knock, and due to the commotion continuing to occur inside, Off. Philips forced entry. There was no sign of disturbance within the foyer and no sign of occupants on the scene. There was a large high security vault, left open, from which a sound was detected by Off. Welsh.

Within the said vault, two bodies where discovered, one female and one male. The female was later identified as Ms. Mary Van Helsing _(London resident, proprietor of Carfax Abbey_); Ms. Van Helsing suffered severe lacerations to the throat and chest (_internal jugular and common carotid artery ruptured)_ and deep slashes of the forearms. The male, later identified as Mr. Simon Sheppard (_London resident, occupation unknown_) suffered identical inflictions with the addition of four fractured vertebrae. _(L3, T1, T2, T9)_

I left the victims with Offs. Welsh and Philips and returned to the car to request backup and an ambulance. At 2353, Ms. Van Helsing and Mr. Sheppard were transferred to St. Thomas' Hospital _(Lambeth Palace Road, London, Greater London, SE1 7EH_.)

I have begun an investigation to find the assailant, but to the present moment no suspects have been identified _(Note)_Several colleagues being able to testify for the presence of Mr. Forester at his place of work at the time of the attack.(_End Note_) There were no prints left at the scene, and no other evidence has been yet discovered. I entered the case into the database as an attempted double homicide.

_**Constable Raymond Bentley**_

_**

* * *

**_I rather like my police report... I worked really hard on making it sound legit. BTW, I nipped the address for Carfax Abbey from some website for a building in London, so if you recognize it as your home, or your cousin's hair salon, or something of the like, I'm sorry I ruined the magic for you...

Pax


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